


Found a Home in Your Heartbeat

by WakeUpDreaming



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Confessions, F/M, Panic Attacks, Snuggling, post 2x18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 06:41:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6144919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeUpDreaming/pseuds/WakeUpDreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediately after the end of the roof scene in 2x18, Happy and Toby talk it out. But that starts to bring more to the surface that Happy's tried to push away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Found a Home in Your Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for a graphic depiction of a panic attack and allusions to childhood abuse.

She’s never really understood why Toby’s reaction to her getting mad would be to hug her. But she’s standing here and he’s got his arms around her, and she’s trying to remind herself that she’s livid at him.

But the smoke from the burning bets still rises, a reminder of the promise she’s not sure he’ll be able to keep. But it’s a promise he made, and he means it. There's a hint of the same hurt in the back of her heart, but right now she's lost the anger and the fear. Right now, she just wants to remind herself that he's here.

Toby murmurs his favorite words in her ear again, quiet enough that she’s not convinced he knew it was out loud, so she holds him tighter and buries her face in his shoulder. She can't say it yet, doesn't even know if she feels it, but she likes the way the words roll from his lips.

She takes some deep breaths as Toby runs his hands up and down her back, comforting in a way Happy’s never felt before.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to her forehead.

“I know,” Happy replies. “Just don’t gamble again, okay? Or if you do,” she sighs, “just tell me so I can punch you in the man boob again.”

“I don’t have man boobs!” Toby argues without any heat behind it. “But that’s not what I was talking about.”

Happy pulls away, just slightly, just so she can see the way his face is still serious and apologetic. “Meaning?”

“I’m sorry you had to survive all that,” he says quietly, his hands resting on her shoulders so gently it's like he's afraid the moment will break. “I’m sorry you had to raise yourself.” He exhales. “I don’t think I realized how good I had it as a kid until you said that.”

“Wow,” Happy replies. “We’re comparing my life to an emotionally absent mother and a gambling addict father, and I’m the one who had it good? Yikes.”

Toby’s brow furrows. “You listened to all of that?”

Happy nods. “Contrary to popular belief, when you ramble, I listen.”

He smiles at her, the one where it’s like he’s looking at sunshine, and Happy still isn’t sure she knows how to handle it. “You do?”

Happy shrugs. “I mean, I’ve got nothing better to do.”

His smile widens. “I still can’t believe you like me.”

Happy scoffs. “Yeah? Me either.”

Toby’s smile falls into a pout. “Be nice.”

She smiles. “If I have to.”

She tilts her head up to him, and he takes the hint, leaning down to kiss her. He’s gentle, almost hesitant, like he’s still unsure whether or not she’s mad.

So Happy pulls him closer, standing on her toes to kiss him, and he holds her tight. When they break away, he kisses her cheek and rests his forehead against hers, his eyes closed.

Then she realizes: she let loose on him, showed him she was angry.

And Toby’s still holding her.

Happy exhales, trying to hold it together.

“You okay?” Toby says as Happy tries to bury her feelings in the crook of his neck.

Happy nods.

He rests his hand on the back of her head again, and it’s so damn sweet that Happy can’t hold back again. “I’ve never yelled at someone like that,” Happy mumbles, still not sure she wants to let go of him, “and had them hug me afterward.”

Toby pulls just far enough away to look at her. “What?”

She half freezes up, not sure she wanted to say that, but she forces herself to look at him. “Fighting's never ended well for me,” Happy tries to explain. She doesn’t want to say more, can’t say more, but with the way Toby’s looking at her, she thinks he understands what she’s saying.

"If you're mad at me," Toby says. "You can tell me all you want. So I can fix it."

It's so absurd, so unlike anything Happy's had before, that she manages a strange laugh. "This is all new for me."

“Well," Toby says, "I don’t go to bed angry. We have a fight, I'll want to fix it,” His words sound like a promise. “And, unless you don’t want me to, I’m going to end every fight with a hug.”

Happy half smiles. “I’m not going to want to hug you after a fight.”

"What about right now?" Toby asks.

"Special occasion," she replies.

He smiles at her, running his thumb along her cheekbone. “Then," he says quietly, "if it happens again, you can leave and slam doors and I’ll hang out until you come home.”

He uses the word so casually, so lightly, that it’s almost like he doesn’t understand the word he’s speaking. Happy’s never had a home before, not since she was two, at least. And now he’s standing there and he’s made these promises and she thinks she could believe him. He feels like he could be home.

“Home?" she asks, the word feeling foreign on her tongue. It doesn't make sense to her, like the conversation's reached a disconnect

He nods. “Yeah,” he says, smiling like he doesn’t know what he’s saying. “Home." He steps away, "and speaking of which, it's late and it's been a rough day. We should probably go there.”

Happy steps away, being sure to take his hand, just until they get downstairs, because she’s not quite ready to let go. Something horrible and familiar is starting in the back of her mind, and she wants out of there. When she gets to the garage, she decides she's still not letting go. “See you later, guys,” Happy shouts, ignoring everyone.

“We’re leaving?” Toby asks. Happy shoots him a look. “Right. We’re leaving. Until tomorrow, my friends.”

Happy practically pulls him outside, desperate and ready to be home.

But then she looks over at Toby, and he's smiling at her before giving her hand a squeeze. She relaxes.

“I have to say,” Toby says, opening the passenger side door of Happy’s truck. “It’s a good thing you don’t hate me, because I wouldn’t have had a ride home.”

Happy laughs, but it feels strangled. “Walter would have driven you home.”

“Doubt it,” Toby replies. “I was really good at pissing everyone off today.”

“You were,” Happy agrees.

He looks at her. “I’m a jackass.”

Happy shrugs. “I mean, you’re not wrong.” She smiles at him. “But I still like you anyway.”

His smile is practically sunshine. “I can work with that.”

They drive home, quiet except for the radio, and Happy starts to think. Every memory she’s forced away for years starts to play across her vision like a horror movie. Three years old, five years old, six years old, then eight and nine and twelve, and then thirteen.

She really doesn’t want to think about thirteen. But the moment thirteen rears its ugly head, she knows it's all over.

“Happy?” Toby’s voice comes through once she parks the car. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she says, shoving open the door of the truck. It’s never felt so small before, she’s never felt so stuck before in the cab of her truck.

She tumbles out the door, practically running toward her apartment. She needs to get safe, needs to get away from the memories.

But they follow her, clawing at the veil of protection she’s managed to hold up for herself, and she can’t get away.

“Happy!” she hears, and there’s Toby, looking steady and concerned. “Slow down. Try to breathe."

“Can’t,” Happy manages, pacing around her living room and kitchen.

“You’re having a panic attack,” Toby says. “Focus on my voice. You’re safe.”

Happy inhales, and it feels ragged, stuck, the air catching in her lungs like tar.

“Okay, Happy? You’re standing in your living room. Whatever’s running across your mind isn’t happening right now.” Happy walks right into Toby, and she forces her face into his chest, because maybe she’ll start to breathe normally again if it all stops for a second. “I’ve got you. You’re okay, Happy. I’ve got you.” His arms wrap around her, and the shaking slows enough that the sobs come surging out of her.

He walks her to the couch, and she pulls him down next to her, keeping her face pressed against his chest. He smells like cologne and Toby, like safety, and she can tell his shirt is getting drenched with her sobbing. She can't care and it seems like he doesn't, because he's not going anywhere. His arms are safe and warm, and the soft words he’s murmuring in her ear are all she’s focusing on.

“I’m right here,” Toby says. “You’re in your apartment. You’re with Toby in your living room, on your couch. We’re really lucky to have a job, but our boss can be an idiot.”

Happy manages to laugh.

“There you go,” Toby says, and he runs his hands along her back, and his lips press against her forehead again. It’s a gesture she’s never experienced before him, but she never wants him to stop. “Today I was an asshole, because that’s what I’m good at. But you whipped me into shape, like you always do.” His arms tighten around her waist. “Because you’re amazing.”

Slowly, after what feels like hours, she comes down. Her racing heart slows to a walk, and the exhaustion washes over her like a wave.

“Hey,” Toby says when she pulls her head up. She knows she's covered in snot and tears, she knows her eyes are red and puffy, but when Happy looks at him, Toby's still smiling at her like she hung the moon. “There’s my girl.”

She takes a breath, unsteady but clean and clear, and reaches for tissues, wiping her eyes and her nose and pretending that wasn't the worst thing in the world.

"Sorry about that," Happy mutters.

Toby's eyes widen. "Why?" he asks. "No, Happy, I'm sorry you had to go through that. I'm glad I could help."

She shrugs. "Usually I can calm down on my own. Nobody's ever seen me like that before."

"You've had to do that alone your whole life?" he asks, sounding broken.

She shrugs again, can't meet his eyes. "I handled it."

"Well, you're never going to handle it on your own again," he says firmly. "No matter what, if you feel a panic attack, come get me. Nobody deserves to go through that alone." There's something in his eyes that Happy half wants to ask about when he adds, "Nobody."

Happy nods. Then she realizes the spot on his shirt is definitely her snot and tears. “Oh, god,” she says, wincing.

"What?"

"You're covered in," she gestures toward the spot, and he looks down. She yawns again, the exhaustion hitting her like a brick. “Hold on.”

She walks into her room and changes into a different shirt, something big and soft that might actually be Toby's, and grabs one of Toby’s shirts from the drawer she cleared for him.

“Here,” she says, tossing it to him. “Sorry about crying all over you.”

He catches the shirt. “Where did you get this?”

Happy shrugs, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around herself as she curls back up on the couch. “You left it here a couple weeks ago.”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for this,” Toby says, and Happy only totally stares when Toby pulls off his shirt. He pulls on the new one, and Happy does a terrible job of tearing her eyes away. “And it’s been here the whole time?”

Happy nods. “It was in your drawer.”

"My drawer?"

She nods. "The one in my room."

Toby falls onto the couch. “I have a drawer?” he asks, voice soft.

“Yes,” Happy says, moving across the couch. She pushes him down so she can lay down next to him. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not,” he says, “but I’m about to break this moment. My arm is pinned between your head and the arm of the couch. Blood flow is ceasing.”

Happy sits up. “Fine,” she says, yawning again. “I could go to sleep anyway.”

“What?”

“I,” Happy says, “am going to bed.”

“Do you want to talk about what just happened?” Toby asks, standing up and following her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Happy lies. “Just need to sleep.”

She falls into her bed and cuddles under the covers, but it’s hard to miss the searching look on Toby’s face.

“You’re sure?” he asks, and she can tell he’s not going to push it, that he’ll let it go if she wants him to. But he's Toby, so he's got to ask this one last time.

“Maybe later,” she decides. “Now get over here. I’m cold.”

“Can I take off my shoes first?” Toby asks.

Happy glares at him.

“Okay, okay,” he says, kicking off his sneakers and sliding under the covers. “I’m here.”

“Don’t fuck up again,” Happy says, pillowing her head on his chest. And then she forces herself to admit something she's barely admitted to herself. “I can’t handle it.”

“I won’t,” Toby promises, trailing his fingertips along her arm. “I mean, I don’t want to.” His hand freezes a second later, and his voice is quiet when he asks, “Happy, did I do that to you?”

“Do what?” she asks, and she fights back a yawn, because she can’t fall asleep right now. She thinks this is important.

“Cause your panic attack,” he asks.

Happy lifts her head. “Why would that have been your fault?”

“Because I reminded you of all the terrible people who hurt you,” he says. He looks horrified at himself.

“Oh, shut up,” Happy snaps.

“What?”

“Don’t do that,” she demands. “Because I’m going to tell you what happened, not tonight, but eventually." He's got that kicked puppy look again. "Hey,” she pokes him in the stomach. “You’re not like them. You did some," she searches for the right words, "unsafe and stupid things, but you’re nothing like the people who,” she pauses, but with Toby's arms around her, she can push back those memories. He grounds her. “You're not like the people who abandoned me and messed with me and hurt me. Don’t talk like you know what happened. Because you will. Eventually. But just because your dumb ass freaked me out today doesn't mean you're the one who fucked me up in the head." She points to her head. "This was all childhood trauma, as you'd say."

"But I -"

"I said," she adds, kissing him softly, "shut up."

He blinks at her. “Okay,” he says, his voice tiny.

She pulls her comforter and settles it around their shoulders. “I’m sleeping now,” she decides, shoving her jeans down her hips and throwing them somewhere in the room.

“Okay,” Toby replies in that same tiny voice.

“Thanks for loving me,” she blurts out before thinking about it.

She can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Thanks for letting me love you.”

Happy shifts so she can hear his heartbeat. She doesn’t know what to say, so she just grabs his arm and throws it around her shoulders, making sure he's holding her as tightly as she's holding him.

And they sleep.


End file.
